


Bandages

by MereLoup



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Derek is bad at fighting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, McCall Pack, Minor mentions of gore, Post-Battle, Stiles and Derek are in an abandoned cabin, Stiles is a Badass, feels are shared and wounds are healed.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 00:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8919238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MereLoup/pseuds/MereLoup
Summary: *Derek knocked on the door impatiently.“Stiles, open the door.”  Still there was no response.  Derek reached down and tried the knob, and thankfully, Stiles hadn’t locked the door.  He twisted the knob and wrenched the door open, but it didn’t open very far, bumping against something that was blocking its path.  Derek was able to slip his head between the door and the door jamb so he could peer around to see what was blocking it.   It was Stiles, lying unconscious on the ground. *





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [holygolightly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/holygolightly/gifts).



> Hello Winchester-Stilinski!
> 
> I was selected to write your story about Hurt/Comfort, focusing on our lovely Stiles (who may or may not have a few magical/super natural elements of his own). I’ve never written h/c before, so I hope I did it justice. May you have wonderful holiday season and a prosperous New Year!
> 
> *
> 
> Rated Teen for language (and one minor warning in the end notes pertaining explaining the 'mentions of gore' tag)

  
  
  
*

Derek was pretty sure this night was a disaster. And even though he was sure the pack was technically winning the fight, he still wished he was anywhere else but here.

As of late, Beacon Hills had been plagued by a sorceress who had made it her mission to harness the Nemeton’s power, and use it to bolster her own and become immortal. It was a rough couple of weeks while the pack worked tirelessly to track her movements and lure her out so that they could try to capture her. Deaton had come across an old Celtic spell book that would likely send her back to the realm that she’d emerged from, but he wasn’t sure which spell it was that would do the trick. 

So, the pack, with the help of Chris Argent, had been given the task to capture her and bring her to Deaton alive, so that he could try them all out on her. 

They had finally lured her out of hiding and to the Beacon Hills observatory just outside of a giant forest. She’d caught onto their plan at the last minute, and things had turned pretty bloody. She had taken to conjuring these giant creatures that looked like warthogs with red eyes, razor sharp teeth, and had six legs, to distract everyone while she tried to take down as many of the pack as she could. 

Towards the end of the fight, Derek had been in the middle of taking attacking one of the creatures, when he’d heard Stiles let out a pained scream. He whipped around, his eyes darting around frantically looking for Stiles to make sure he was okay. 

When his eyes landed on Stiles, he was just rearing back, bat in hand, and swung it around cracking her against the side of the head. Scott ran up behind her and seized her arms, which were sporting these long, dangerously sharp claws. Allison bound her feet, dodging the kicks she was trying to land to her face. Once she was immobilized, Stiles placed his hand against her forehead, muttering some words in an ancient tongue, the tip of his fingers glowing gold as he used his magic to render her unconscious. 

“We need to get her back to Deaton’s before she wakes up,” Lydia said, steering Scott (who was still holding the sorceress) toward Chris’ car. 

“We can’t all fit in the car,” Allison said, looking around worried. 

“You guys go ahead, we’ll stay here.” Scott said, closing the back seat door. 

Erica climbed into the back of Chris’ car, claws out, teeth bared, and making sure she’d be ready in case the sorceress awoke. 

“You can’t stay here, if anything happens and she gets loose, she’ll come looking for you,” Lydia said. “She’ll want revenge and you’ll all be waiting right here.”

“Do you think we should split up?” Isaac asked, glancing at the car timidly.

Chris honked the horn, “You guys, we’ve got to move.”

Lydia ran over to the car, “Just until Deaton and I get this banishing spell to work. It couldn’t hurt. Scott, I’ll call you!” 

She closed the door, and Chris, Lydia, Erica and the sorceress sped off. 

Scott turned around looking at the remaining pack members. “Okay, so we’ll head out in different directions. Keep your phones on silent, and I’ll check in with you.”

“Do you think we should stay in pairs?” Boyd asked. 

“That’s a good idea,” Derek said. He looked over to Stiles, intent on staying with him. Stiles, who had been strangely quiet the whole time, was wincing slightly. 

“Everyone, stay alert and watch your backs.” Scott said, looking at each of them. 

So Scott and Allison, Derek and Stiles, and Boyd and Isaac all headed off in different directions, heading out into the woods. It wasn’t the best plan, but this night hadn’t exactly been what they’d envisioned anyway. 

 

***

Derek wasn’t sure what time it was, but judging by the moon’s position in the sky, it well past midnight. 

Derek and Stiles had been wandering through the woods for what felt like hours, and Derek was just now beginning to think they were a safe distance away. They had been silent the entire walk, which didn’t really bother Derek, but he thought it was a bit strange for Stiles, who was usually more verbose, to be so quiet. 

Derek hadn’t gotten a chance to make sure Stiles was really okay back at the observatory, and since they had been travelling, Derek could hear the unevenness of Stiles’ footfalls and his labored breathing, and he knew that Stiles, whether he would admit to it or not, needed some time to rest. 

Eventually, the two had come to a small clearing in the woods, and off in the distance, Derek could see a small log cabin, nestled just beyond the trees. They had been walking for so long already, and Derek knew they’d be safer if they could find a place to hide. 

Derek stopped walking and Stiles, who was only a few footsteps behind Derek, stopped short, gripping the bat reflexively, and looking around for signs of danger. 

Derek put a hand up, shaking his head. “It’s nothing, we’re fine. I just thought it’s getting pretty late, and we don’t know how much longer it’s going to be before Scott calls us. We should probably find somewhere to lay low.”

Stiles’ shoulders relaxed, the tension dripping out of his stance. He lowered his bat and ran a hand over his face, nodding tiredly. 

“Sounds good to me, man.”

Derek pointed ahead to the clearing. “There’s a cabin up there, and it sounds empty, but I’m going to get closer and check it out.”

Stiles looked to the direction where Derek had pointed, “I’ll wait here.”

Stiles stepped back, standing where he could be concealed by the line of trees. He looked exhausted, and Derek half wondered if Stiles was more hurt than he’d let on. 

“Go,” Stiles said, waving a hand at Derek. “I’ll be fine here.” 

Derek only hesitated a second, then he turned and headed across the clearing to the small cabin. 

As he jobbed, Derek allowed the shift to come over him, using the enhanced senses that came with his Beta form to listen for the sounds of anyone else nearby. 

 

***

This cabin’s tiny porch creaked loudly as Derek stepped onto the wood. If he wasn’t so certain that it was empty, he would have been a bit more worried. Nonetheless, he paused for a few heartbeats, listening to hear any reaction. He took another step forward, expecting the creak of the wood this time, and adjusting his weight so the noise wasn’t as loud. 

The handle on the door was old, and the lock looked like it hadn’t been unlocked in a very long time. He knocked softly on the door.

No response.

“Little pig, little pig, can I come in?” Derek asked sardonically as he wrenched the door, snapping the lock with the force of the sudden movement. 

The door swung wide, the creaking of the hinges wasn’t completely unexpected and Derek could tell on first glance that the place was completely vacant. 

Thick, ropey cobwebs were draped all over the living room, attaching themselves to the furniture and hanging from the ceiling. The air was musty and stale, and Derek’s vision allowed him to make out the shape of furniture in the room. There were no sounds in the house, other than a few squirrels who were living in the attic. But other than that, the cabin was completely empty. 

Derek walked through the cabin, checking each room. It was a small two room cabin, with a small kitchenette and half bath. It looked like a small hunting cabin, designed for a night or two in the woods, and a place to store weapons and ammo during a hunting trip. It wasn’t particularly cozy, but it wasn’t designed to be. The place seemed safe enough, at least for a few hours, and they really didn’t have another option. 

Derek walked back outside the cabin, circling the cabin and looking for obvious holes in the cabin’s exterior, where anyone would be able to get inside. The walls looked secure, and Derek decided to go back and get Stiles. 

 

When he returned to the spot in the clearing, Stiles was sitting down on the ground, his back leaning against the tree. His head was resting between his hands, and he looked like he was going to fall asleep any second. 

“Well,” he said, speaking out to alert Stiles to his presence. Stiles opened his eyes, and Derek noticed it took him a second for his eyes to focus. “The cabin is creepy, but it’s empty. It should be fine for a few hours.”

“Let’s do this then.” Stiles stood up, swaying a little on his feet, but regaining his balance not long after. He walked past Derek, walking ahead toward the cabin. 

 

***

Judging by Stiles’ raised eyebrows and the “Yikes” he muttered under his breath, the cabin was not what Stiles was expecting. 

“When you said mentioned a cabin in the woods, I was thinking more along the lines of ‘quaint and cozy,’ and a little less ‘murder-y’.” Stiles eyed the cabin dubiously. 

Derek shrugged. “It’s empty and we should be able to lay low here for a few hours.”

Stiles gave the another once over, evaluating the façade and considering something. “I think it would be a good idea to have a little more protection.”

Derek didn’t know if Stiles had the energy to use his magic, but he couldn’t deny the extra layer of enchantment covering the cabin would work to their benefit. 

“You think you can manage it?”

It was the middle of the night, and they had just walked who knows how many miles, _after_ fighting an angry sorceress and dozens of those creatures. Derek knew Stiles had to be exhausted. 

Stiles shrugged, stepping off the porch. “I don’t have much energy left, but I think I can shield us for a while.”

Derek wasn’t sure about this, but they were kind of low on good ideas at the moment. 

***

Derek waited to turn on the lights until Stiles had finished casting the circle around the cabin .

Stiles walked around the small, isolated cabin muttering incantations and casting an enchanted barrier around the property, shielding them from prying eyes. Derek couldn’t see anything happening, but he felt the unmistakable cold shiver of Stiles’ magic filling the circle and wrapping itself around them. 

“Hopefully Lydia and Deaton can get the spell to work, and fast.” Stiles entered the cabin, closing the door behind him. He looked pale and a little shaky. “I don’t know if I can hold this for more than a few hours.”  
The protective shield would allow the two of them to remain undetected to supernatural means of tracking while they waited for the call from the others. But in order for it to work its strongest, Stiles would have to actively maintain the connection, making sure the magic would hold. 

Derek’s eyebrows furrowed at the center as he took in Stiles’ appearance. He was really starting to worry about him now. “Stiles, are you-”

“I’m fine,” Stiles said, cutting Derek off. He turned toward him and gave a weak smile. “Just tired. I’m fine.” 

Derek flipped on the light, and Stiles glanced around the cob-web covered room. 

“I don’t know why I thought it would look any better inside,” Stiles deadpanned. 

“What, this isn’t your style?” Derek smirked, pulling the sheet off of one of the couches, causing a plume of smoke to rise up into the air. “I thought you’d find it romantic.”

Stiles grinned. He tilted his head to the side, his eyes raking down Derek’s body. “So you like a little romance, do you? Never would have pegged you for a romantic.”

Derek turned away, feeling a blush creep up onto his cheeks. 

Stiles took a few more steps into the room, setting his bat down on the table near the door. 

“Does this place have a bathroom?” He looked around, trying to see into the other room of the cabin. 

While Stiles was looking away, Derek allowed himself to glance at the expanse of Stiles’ neck and the moles dotting his skin. That’s something Derek noticed himself doing more and more lately. 

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, trying to keep his mind somewhere PG. “It’s down the hall.” 

“I’m going to…” Stiles made a vague gesture with his hand. 

Derek nodded, and headed over toward the kitchenette area. “I’ll be out here.”

Derek listened as the sound of Stiles’ footfalls heading down the hallway, and he heard the creak of the wooden door as it clicked shut. 

Derek decided to pull the sheets off of more of the furniture so that they had a place relatively clean to sit down. In doing so, he noticed a small fireplace in the corner of the room. Derek wondered whether or not he should light a fire to take the chill out of the room. He saw a small basket of firewood a few feet from where he was standing, but he didn’t see anything to light a fire with. Derek checked back in the kitchenette, going through all the drawers and cupboards looking for matches or a lighter to get the fire going. 

He had just found an old book of matches in one of the drawers when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He fished it out, checking the screen.

 **1 New Message: McCall**  
**U guys safe ?**

Derek thumbed out a quick response. 

_Yes. Holed up in the woods._

**Nothing from L or D yet. I’ll let you know if I hear frm them.**

_Okay._

Derek found an old phone book, and figured he could use its pages to help get the fire going. He had just crouched down to the small fireplace when his phone went off again. Derek set everything down to reach for his phone again.

**Is Stiles with you?**

_Yes. Where else would he be?_

**K. Just checking. He didn’t respond to my text.**

And at that, Derek was confused. 

Derek knew that out of everyone in the pack, the first person Scott would have reached out to would have been Stiles. In fact, in all the times that Derek and Stiles had ever been paired up, if Scott needed to reach them, he would reach out to Stiles first, not Derek. 

Derek slid his phone in his pocket, but he didn’t resume starting a fire.

Something felt off. 

It was then that Derek realized that the cabin was almost deafeningly silent, and he couldn’t remember hearing Stiles make any noise for a really long time. 

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice was startlingly loud in the quiet cabin, and he strained his ears to hear any sort of response. 

Nothing. 

Derek zeroed in on the sound of Stiles’ heartbeat, low and steady. Stiles was still in the cabin, but he wasn’t answering Derek.

“Stiles!” 

Still nothing. 

Derek moved swiftly down the hallway, making his way to the bathroom door. He knocked on the door impatiently.

“Stiles, open the fucking door.” Still nothing. 

Derek reached down and tried the knob, and thankfully, Stiles hadn’t locked the door. 

He twisted the knob and wrenched the door open, but it didn’t open very far, bumping against something that was blocking its path. Derek was able to slip his head between the door and the door jamb so he could peer around to see what was blocking it. 

It was Stiles, lying unconscious on the ground. 

“Shit.” Derek crouched down, and stuck his hand inside the space, pushing Stiles’ body away from the door as much as he could. 

“Stiles!”

Derek pushed him back far enough so that he could open the door a little wider. He stood up and squeezed inside the small bathroom, the wood of the door jamb digging into the skin of his back. 

Derek got down onto his knees in the small bathroom, taking care not to jostle Stiles. Stiles’ button down was off and draped over the side of the tub, and Derek could see that Stiles’ t-shirt had a giant bloody patch over his chest. 

_“Fuck_.” 

Stiles was hurt. 

Derek _knew_ Stiles had been acting stranger than usual. Derek wondered how he hadn’t smelled the blood, and he remembered how Stiles had been walking downwind, keeping the scent behind them. 

Derek wasn’t sure if he was angrier at Stiles for keeping his injury from him, or angrier at himself for not noticing. But underneath the anger, was something else that ran through him. Something that ran hot and sharp; fear. Fear that he could lose Stiles. Derek had lost a lot of people in his life, and each loss hurt. But the idea of losing Stiles, was…he couldn’t lose Stiles. 

“Stiles, c’mon, man, wake up,” Derek muttered, shaking Stiles’ shoulder, trying to be as gentle as he could since he didn’t know the extent of Stiles’ injury.

Derek rucked up Stiles’ tee as much as he could, and he saw the end of the wound. Peeking out from the bottom of his shirt were four deep lacerations, resembling claw marks, cutting into his chest. The marks looked deep, and Derek pushed Stiles’ shirt up higher so he could see just how long they extended.

“Derek?” 

Derek looked up to find Stiles coming to, confused and bleary eyed, and trying to look down at his chest. 

“What happened?” Derek barked, not bothering with pleasantries. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Stiles rasped, trying to get his elbows beneath him so he could sit up. 

Derek leveled him with an unamused glance. “I found you covered in blood and passed out on the floor.”

“Okay, so it looks bad,” Stiles winced, hissing in pain as his movements tugged at his wounds. He shuffled up into a sitting position, scooting back to lean against the toilet. “But I promise, it’s not that bad.”

Derek wanted to argue. Derek wanted to point at all the blood and say, “What the hell are you talking about? Of course it’s that bad!” He wanted to find the sorceress and tear her to shreds himself. He wanted to hunt down _anything_ that thought it could hurt Stiles and still go on living. 

Instead. Derek took a deep breath and adjusted his position so he could face Stiles. 

“Why don’t you tell me what happened.” 

Stiles sighed, and nodded, looking down at his bloodied shirt that sat halfway up his chest. 

“She got me when I wasn’t looking,” he said exhaling sharply, and wincing as the motion caused the muscles of his abdomen to move. “She had these long claw-like nails,” Stiles wiggled his fingers. “She was like Lady Deathstrike or something.”

Derek snorted a laugh. Stiles moved around, trying to take off his shirt, and Derek moved to help him. 

“It’s been one hell of a day,” Stiles exhaled, looking down at his chest. “Would you, uh, help me,” he gestured vaguely, not finishing his sentence. 

Derek could smell the change in his scent, and he knew how uncomfortable Stiles was. 

“Of course, I will,” Derek answered.

Together, they pulled Stiles’ shredded t-shirt over his head, and Derek got a better look at the wounds. They reached from the base of his right shoulder, extending across his chest, and dragging down the middle of his chest, stopping just below his belly button. 

It looked extremely painful, and Derek was willing to bet anything this was the reason that Stiles screamed out back at the observatory. 

“Why didn’t you say anything when we were walking?”

Derek stood up and grabbed a hand towel that was on the sink. He ran it under the water, soaking it, and crouched back down next to Stiles to wipe around his lower belly and clean off some of the blood. He wasn’t sure how clean this water was, and he didn’t want to get any directly on Stiles’ wounds.

“There were more important things going on,” Stiles shrugged. I didn’t want to distract anyone.”

Derek practically growled, “Stiles, you’re not a dist-”

“You know what I mean,” Stiles cut Derek off, sighing impatiently. “Look, I’m tired, I’m hurt, and I’m not saying things how I want to say them. I just mean that there were other, higher priority things going on. I thought I’d bring it up later.”

Derek heart Stiles’ heart stutter as he said the last line, and he highly doubted Stiles would have brought it up at all. 

Stiles was one of the fiercest members of the pack, but no matter how hard he fought and how tenacious he as against an adversary, at the end of the day, Stiles being human put him at the biggest risk. At the end of a fight, Stiles would always head home and bandage himself up, never asking for help, never commenting on the vicious bruises or the stiff muscles. Derek wasn’t sure if Stiles was more of the suffer in silence type, or if he honestly didn’t view his injuries as a priority, preferring to look after his friends.

Derek couldn’t ever remember Stiles asking for someone to help clean him up, and he knew that took a lot of effort for him to let Derek even see him like this.

Derek worked in silence, cleaning around Stiles wounds. They had stopped bleeding, and the deepest of the wounds was up near his shoulder, where the sorceress must have initially struck him. 

Tossing the towel in the sink, Derek reached a hand out, letting Stiles hold onto it while he stood. 

He winced as the motion tugged at his wounds, causing the one near his shoulder to start bleeding a little bit. He wavered a little bit on his feet, and Derek held onto him until he was evenly balanced. 

“This place is a hunting cabin, so I’m sure there are a bunch of supplies stashed all around the place.”

“Hunters?” Stiles’ eyes widened. 

“Not those kind of hunters, just regular hunters.” Derek remembered the entry closet near the door. “I bet there’s a first aid kit, and I’ll cover that up.” Derek said, nodding at Stiles’ chest. 

Stiles nodded, and braced himself against the sink.

“You got it?” Derek asked.

Stiles nodded, “Yeah, I’m good.”

 

***

Derek found a modest first aid kid in the closet, and brought it back into the bathroom. It didn’t have much, but Derek only needed clean bandages and some tape. While he was gone, he was half worried Stiles would have passed out again, but he was still standing when he returned to the small room.

“Don’t worry, I’m still in one piece,” Stiles grinned. 

Derek found some packets of gauze, and thankfully, a small bottle of saline solution. He used the saline to clean out the marks on Stiles’ skin, making sure to be gentle. 

“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” he murmured. Stiles flinched as Derek caught a particularly sore spot. “Sorry,” he glanced up at Stiles. 

“It’s okay.” Stiles looked down, watching Derek work. “The blood loss isn’t why I passed out.”

Derek held a clean patch of gauze up to the marks on Stiles’ shoulder, covering the wound. “Can you hold this?”

“Yeah.”

Stiles brought a hand up, holding the gauze in place while Derek tore off strips of medical tape and attached them to the edge of the gauze, keeping them against Stiles’ wounds. 

“It’s the magic,” Stiles said. 

Derek looked up from where he was working, his eyes locking with Stiles. He knew Stiles was too tired to maintain the magical barrier. If Stiles wasn’t injured, he wouldn’t even bat an eyelash at shielding the cabin. But in his current condition, it was taking all of his power to protect the two of them and remain conscious at the same time. And that was just one of the many ways that Stiles showed how good of a person he was. He was willing to give every last bit of himself to help out where needed and keep people safe.

“Thank you,” Derek said softly, looking down and resuming his work. 

Stiles snorted a laugh. “For what?”

Derek shrugged, pressing another patch of gauze against Stiles’ wound, directing his hands to hold it in place. 

“Looking out for us.” Derek tore off a few strips of tape. “For keeping us safe.”

Derek didn’t think he had ever thanked anyone from the pack before –that’s what pack was for, taking care of one another— but Derek needed Stiles to know how much he appreciated him. 

He taped the gauze in place and looked up at Stiles, locking eyes with him. 

“Thank you.”

Stiles’ eyes darted back and forth as he looked at Derek’s face. His tongue peeked out, licking his bottom lip and his breath stuttered in his chest. 

“Anytime.” He tacked on a smile, aiming for something causal to counteract the seriousness of the moment. Derek could hear Stiles’ heart beating a little faster and he felt the heat in his gaze. 

Stiles’ tongue came out again, wetting his lip, and Derek felt his attention waver, imagining the two of them in another situation where Stiles was shirtless and they were pressed up against one another. 

As soon as the thought had made its way in his mind, Derek turned around to the first aid kit, rooting around for more gauze for the last of Stiles’ wound.

“One more should do it, I think.” Derek cleared his throat, and tried to think about decidedly unsexy things to discourage the arousal he could feel pooling in his jeans. 

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles’ voice cracked, as he spoke, and while Derek was turned to dig in the kit, he saw Stiles’ hand slip down to his pants, trying to discreetly adjust himself. 

***

Derek found one last roll of gauze and Stiles held the strips in place while Derek taped them to his skin. 

“When we get back, we should have Melissa take a look at these.” Derek set the tape and unused gauze back in the first aid kit and closed the lid. 

Stiles leaned away from the sink, turning around so he could look at his reflection in the mirror. 

“I’m pretty sure these are going to need stitches,” his fingers touched the top of the gauze gingerly, feeling around the deepest wound near his shoulder. “That’s going to leave one hell of a scar.” 

Beads of blood that were already rising to the surface, staining the gauze. It wasn’t enough to cause concern, but enough to let Derek know the wound was going to need extra help staying closed. 

“God, I’m going to look hideous once these scar over,” Stiles laughed humorlessly. “Not that I was much to look at before.” 

He tilted his head to the side, inspecting the wounds and Derek could see the discomfort in his eyes through the reflection of the mirror. 

Derek took a step forward, standing closer to Stiles’ back and watching him through the mirror. He had always thought Stiles was beautiful, even when he was an obnoxious teenager who was hell-bent on getting Derek thrown in jail. 

The more Derek had gotten to know Stiles and the more Derek had seen just how smart and capable he was, that only made him more beautiful to Derek. For the longest time, Derek never liked Lydia Martin and he never really knew why. But as time passed and Derek’s feelings became clearer to him, it was because he was angry that Stiles had wasted so much time pining for Lydia, who clearly didn’t appreciate him, when Derek was right there and saw him for everything that he was. Things that Lydia would never see. 

This life full of supernatural involvement was kind of thrust into Stiles and Scott’s lives, and a life like theirs was bound to leave a mark. But all those marks on Stiles’ skin told the story of bravery, and told the tale of a warrior who was successful in battle. 

Derek knew the humans didn’t view them the same way he, a born wolf who had always known about the supernatural, viewed things. He hated that Stiles could look at himself and think that these marks made him any less breathtaking. When Derek looked at Stiles, he saw a warrior. 

Stiles had proved time and time again, just how far he was willing to go for the good of the pack. And despite being the most physically vulnerable member of the pack—being the only human— Derek had no doubt that Stiles was one of the most formidable of them. Many had underestimated Stiles, and Derek had watched as Stiles showed them just how wrong they were.

As Stiles looked at his gauze covered wounds in the mirror, Derek’s mind flashed to something that he’d seen written somewhere a long time ago, back when his family were still alive. 

“Wear your scars with pride,” Derek muttered softly under his breath, not realizing he was even speaking out loud at all. 

“What?”

Derek pulled himself out of his thoughts and focusing on Stiles. Stiles was staring at Derek thought the mirror’s reflection, his eyes boring into Derek’s. He rested his hand on the sink, waiting for Derek to repeat himself. 

Derek cleared his throat, and repeated himself. 

“‘Wear your scars with pride, because a scarless man has not felt the hardship of life or the feeling of pain.’”

He couldn’t remember exactly where he had seen them, but the words had always stuck with him, and ever since he was little, when he’d seen scars, he’d associated them with people who had seen true pain in life, but had lived to tell its story. People who had seen hardship and had been forever changed by it. Derek knew better than anyone that not all scars were external, and he bore scars of his own, his character being forged by fire.

Stiles quirked an eyebrow at him, and Derek shrugged. His cheeks heated up in a blush, but he didn’t look away from Stiles’ gaze. 

“I think they’re a testament to how much you’ve survived.” Derek said licking his bottom lip, biting it softly. “They let everyone know how brave you are.”

“Brave,” Stiles snorted, rolling his eyes, “yeah. Riiiight.”

“Stiles, you’re the only human in a pack full of wolves, a banshee and a hunter. The fact that you fight so fiercely and you’re such a skilled strategist all while being the most physically vulnerable of all of us speaks volumes of your bravery.”

Derek didn’t realize that he was rambling until he’d let it all out. 

Stiles didn’t seem to mind, though. But instead of brushing it off as a joke, Stiles seemed to be watching Derek very closely, hanging on his every word. And while Derek wasn’t sure where all this was coming from, he figured he’d might as well keep going. 

“You’re more powerful than you realize, Stiles. And anyone who underestimates you does so at the cost of their own life. So you’ll have scars. But they tell the story of how you survived.”

Stiles’ eyes lingered on Derek for a few moments longer, before turning back to his gauzed chest. Derek thought he saw a small smile on his face as he looked at his wounds this time, seeing them in a new light. 

“And here I thought you were tired of me always fucking up,” Stiles said softly. He turned around, facing Derek, the two of them just inches from each other. 

“What do you mean?” Derek was feeling dizzy with the closeness of Stiles’ proximity, and he had the distinct urge to reach out and stroke the skin of Stiles’ cheek, to cup his jaw, to capture his lips with his—

“The way you’re always keeping an eye on me during a fight,” Stiles continued. “I thought you thought I was worthless in a fight, or something. Or that I couldn’t take care of myself.”

Derek didn’t realize that he had looked out for Stiles that much during a fight before. He also didn’t realize that Stiles had noticed him watching. 

“I don’t look after you because I think you can’t look out for yourself.” Derek shuffled a step closer, his body mere inches from Stiles, close enough the feel the heat from his skin. “I look out for you because I care about you.” 

Derek didn’t exactly mean to say it like _that_ , per se. But judging by the way Stiles heart beat began to pick up a notch or two, Derek could tell that the admission wasn’t entirely unwelcome, and he felt encouraged to continue.

“It’s because I need to know you’re okay. I have to _make sure_ you’re okay and that nobody hurts you. Because if anything ever happened to you, Stiles, I—“ Derek paused, his eyes drifting down to Stiles’ gauzed chest and back up to his face. “I can’t—”

“You can’t what?” Stiles licked his lips, his eyes locked with Derek’s unwaveringly. His voice was thick and it covered Derek like warm honey. 

“I can’t lose you.” Derek said, in a whisper. Derek has lost pack before, and he knows how badly it hurts. But if he ever lost Stiles… 

“It would kill me.” 

Stiles gasped softly, and he brought a hand up to Derek’s face, leaning in suddenly, and Derek wanted nothing more than for Stiles to kiss him. Just before Stiles’ lips connected with Derek’s, Stiles’ phone went off in his pocket. 

“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Stiles grumbled, dropping his hand from Derek’s face, and digging his phone out of his pocket. 

“What the hell Scott?” Stiles snapped. Stiles ran a hand through his hair, his fingers making it messier than it already was. “No, nothing, dude. Sorry. What’s up?”

Derek took a few steps back from Stiles, putting some space between their bodies. 

He could hear Scott’s voice on the phone and Stiles’ side of the conversation. 

“They did?....That’s awesome!.......Yeah, it’s some tiny cabin in the woods. We’re probably a couple miles outside of the observatory……Sounds good man. I’m shielding it right now, but text me when you’re close and I’ll lift it….”

Derek gathered that things had been resolved and that Scott would be coming by to pick them up. 

He walked out of the bathroom, Stiles watching him leave with a torn look on his face. 

Derek had been so sure that he was finally going to kiss Stiles. It had taken him a lot to admit all of that, and he felt a little exposed having it all out in the open without knowing how Stiles felt about him.

Derek kept himself busy putting the sheet back over the couch in the main room and putting the matches and phone book back where he’d found them. He never did get the fire going, so there was nothing to extinguish. The cabin wasn’t much to look at when they’d gotten there, but Derek was raised to be respectful of another person's space, so he cleaned up everything that he had moved. 

Stiles emerged from the bathroom wearing his button down, now fully buttoned, and holding his bloody, shredded t-shirt balled up in his hand. 

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, hesitating for a second before he entered the room. 

“That was Scott.”

Derek fixed him with a look as if to say, ‘Duh.’

“Lydia and Deaton got the spell to work, and the sorceress was transported back to her realm.”

Derek nodded, “That’s a relief.”

“Yeah it is.” Stiles scratched the back of his neck, winching as the motion pulled at his wounds. “The Nemeton is safe once again.”

“Are they coming to get us?”

“Yeah, Chris just picked up him and Isaac, and they’re headed in this direction. Chris has some GPS tracker and he traced our signal. They should be here in a few.”

Derek sighed, the tension from the evening finally subsiding. He was glad to hear things were back to normal. Well, as normal as things were for Beacon Hills. 

Derek and Stiles waited on the porch, and when Scott sent Stiles the text saying they were a few minutes away, Stiles closed the circle and removed the barrier, and they walked back through the woods toward the road.

***

 

The ride back into town was a bit cramped with Allison, Stiles, and Derek squeezed in the back of Chris’ car. Melissa had picked up Boyd and Isaac earlier from their hiding place, and was headed toward Deaton’s as well, along with her med bag so she could patch up any wounds if necessary. 

On the ride back into town, Chris regaled them with how Lydia and Deaton had poured over all the ancient texts until they found the one to send the sorceress back. While Scott and Stiles asked questions, getting all the information they could, Derek looked out the window, trying to let his mind wander and forget about what had happened back at the cabin. He felt the disappointment at how close he was to having something he’d so desperately wanted, only to have it interrupted. 

His hand rested on the seat, close enough to feel the warmth of Stiles’ body heat though his pants. Derek closed his eyes and rested his head against the headrest, syncing his breath with Stiles’ and allowing himself to find comfort in the fact that Stiles was alive and safe.

About a mile outside of the Beacon Hills, Stiles’ hand shuffled over on the seat and he draped pinky finger over Derek’s. They spent the rest of the car ride with their fingers intertwined. 

***

At Deaton’s clinic, Melissa patched up the various injuries of the pack members while Chris and Peter went to dispose of the bodies of the creatures at the observatory. 

Melissa spent the whole time lecturing Stiles about carelessness during brawls with supernatural creatures, and Stiles took it all in good stride. 

“I’m just saying Stiles, these are really deep. You could have been seriously hurt.”

“I’m a warrior, Melissa,” Stiles said with a bright smile, “They tell the tales of my bravery.”

She rolled her eyes, tying off the last of the stitches before she placed new, clean gauze on Stiles’ chest. 

Stiles looked at Derek over Melissa’s shoulder, and his smile softened a little, slipping from something playful into something more intimate. Derek’s heart warmed at Stiles’ words—his heartbeat remaining steady while he spoke them—and Derek was glad to see that his comments back at the cabin had meant something to Stiles.

Melissa offered to drive Stiles home, and he agreed, grabbing Derek’s hand and practically dragging him into the car with him. “Derek’s going to crash at my place tonight.”

Melissa raised her eyebrows in surprise, while Scott gave Stiles a curious look.

“The more the merrier,” Melissa said, not questioning anything further. 

Stiles kept his hand linked with Derek’s the whole car ride.

By the time they arrived at Stiles’ house, the first rays of the sun were just peeking over the horizon. The sheriff’s cruiser wasn’t in the driveway, and Derek figured he was at the station already. 

“I’m going to go upstairs, email a paper to my English lit teacher, and then go to sleep.” Stiles nodded his head back to the house, but kept his eyes on Derek. “Would you care to stay?”

Derek smiled at the fact that Stiles was still staying on top of his school work despite being up all night hiding in an abandon cabin from an evil sorceress. 

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

***

Upstairs in Stiles’ room, he handed Derek plaid pajama pants and an old lacrosse shirt for him to change into. Derek slipped into the bathroom to change, taking a few extra minutes to admire the sight of himself in Stiles’ clothes in the mirror above the sink. He let the scent wrap around him, and took comfort in feeling safe. Of feeling like Stiles’.

When Derek got back to Stiles’ room, he saw Stiles tying the string on the waist of his sweatpants. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and Derek’s eyes trailed down Stiles’ skin to where the waistband was sitting dangerously low on his hipbones. 

“I tried wearing a shirt, but it felt uncomfortable.”

“Huh?” Derek’s eyes whipped up to Stiles’ face, and Derek realized he’d been staring at Stiles’ lower abdomen for far longer than was casual. 

“A shirt felt weird against the gauze, so I figured I’d just go without,” he said, walking around to his bed, and pulling the covers back. 

“Oh,” Derek cleared his throat, “Yeah, sure. No worries.”

Stiles got into the bed and looked up at Derek expectantly, and Derek realized that he was meant to get in bed with Stiles instead of sleeping somewhere else. 

Derek felt butterflies in his chest as he climbed in bed beside Stiles. 

Stiles lied down on his side and Derek did the same, the two facing one another. 

Stiles chewed on his lip, the way he does when he’s debating whether or not he wants to say something. Derek lifted an eyebrow expectantly and Stiles smirked, taking the hint and saying what was on his mind. 

“You’re a shitty fighter,” Stiles said randomly.

“What?” Derek was confused and definitely a little taken aback. That was so not what he was expecting Stiles to say. 

“I mean, you have the muscles, and the teeth and the claws, and you get the job done, but you get distracted by the smaller, insignificant details. You don’t look at the big picture, and you get too hung up on the smaller things.”

Derek must have looked offended, because Stiles sighed and rubbed his eyes. 

“I didn’t mean that how it sounded, it’s just…” he sighed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, as if he couldn’t believe what he was about to say. 

“You went after one of the creatures,” Stiles said. “One of those fucking warthog rat things that the sorceress conjured. I was watching you, and one of those _things_ ran by, and you took your eyes off of her so you could go after the creature.”

He ran a hand through his hair, and Derek could see that he had a faint tremor. 

“The whole reason why she conjured those damn things in the first place was so that we’d be so caught up going after them that we’d leave her be. And you turned around to take down one of them, and you left your back completely exposed to her. And she knew it, she could see that she had the perfect opening. She fucking _had_ you. And if I didn’t--” Stiles cut himself off, trying to get his breathing under control. 

It Derek a second to piece together what Stiles was trying to say. 

After Derek had killed the creature was when he had heard Stiles’ scream, when he had turned back around to see the sorceress lashing out at him. She had seen that Derek was distracted and she was going to come after him, and she likely would have killed him if Stiles hadn’t intervened. 

Stiles had risked his life to save Derek. 

“You’re not the only one who can’t lose someone.” Stiles’ voice was barely a whisper, but Derek could have heard him from the other side of town. Stiles locked eyes with Derek, his brow furrowing. The heaviness of his words expressed just how serious he was.

“I can’t lose you either.”

This time, it was Derek who leaned in to kiss Stiles first and there was no one to interrupt them. 

It only took Stiles a second to respond, but he did so with enthusiasm, kissing Derek as if he was trying to express all the things he couldn’t say out loud. 

He pulled back from Derek just far enough so he could look Derek in the eyes, “I’ll promise I’ll be more careful in fights if you promise to not put yourself in obviously vulnerable positions.”

Derek chuckled softly. “Deal. But only if you promise to tell me when you’re hurt so I can help take care of you after a fight.”

“Deal,” Stiles grinned. He kissed Derek’s lips chastely. “You promise you’ll still think I’m sexy with all these scars?”

“Stiles, I’d think you were sexy if you were one giant scar.”

Stiles tilted his head back and laughed loudly, “How would that even work?”

“I don’t know,” Derek grinned, leaning forward to nip at Stiles’ exposed throat. “Now shut up and go to sleep.”

Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek, and it wasn’t long before the two of them finally fell asleep. 

-fin-

***

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note:  
> Warnings: **Minor mentions of gore** — Stiles gets some pretty gnarly wounds in an (off screen) battle and there are mentions of the deep cuts and blood. 
> 
> The quote Derek shares with Stiles about scars is not mine. I saw that overlaid on an image on Pinterest, and I don’t know who the original author is.
> 
> This was my first time doing a fic gift exchange, and I had a blast!!! Thank you so much to those being ESSS16 for putting everything together and for all the authors who contributed, as well as all of you lovely, lovely readers! :D


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